


No Gods

by Loupmont



Series: Songfics [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Songfic, mention of maggots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loupmont/pseuds/Loupmont
Summary: A songfic using the song "No Gods" by Sol Invictus. Sylvain has some odd dreams, and talks to Felix about them.
Series: Songfics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546006
Kudos: 4





	No Gods

[We sit here waiting,  
I know who will call.  
I know who will visit,  
No one, no one at all]

"Felix, have you ever had a weird dream?" Sylvain poked his pointer fingers together, holding his head down.

"I don't really dream. You know that, Sylvain." Felix looked away, "Why? Did you have that dream again?"

"The one in the strange room? Where I can't move? Yeah." Sylvain swallowed, "My parents were there, talking to a healer of sorts. He wore these weird clothes, bright blue."

"Yeah, you told me about that man before", Felix reached behind him for something that Sylvain couldn't quite see.

[No gods,  
No gods,  
No gods,  
Anymore.]

"My parents were there. I couldn't quite hear what they were saying. They talked to the healer, then to this other man. I have no idea what the man was, but he held a book and wore strange black and white robes." As Sylvain described the dream, the details clarified in his brain. "The room, it was so white. White walls, white ceiling. The table was oddly smooth, and wasn't even wood! Nothing was made of wood."

"Uh huh", Felix sounded bored.

[On the platform at the station,  
But our train will never come.  
Stranded in this waiting room,  
With a sky without a sun.]

"There was one phrase I remember hearing, clear as day. 'Pull the plug'. What is 'the plug'?"

Felix shrugged, "Beats me." He revealed the item he was reaching for: a scythe.

"Is that the Scythe of Sariel?" Sylvain gasped.

"No. Just a regular scythe, for harvesting." Felix swung it around, "It's easy to wield." He pointed it to Sylvain.

"Fe, you're scaring me."

[No gods,  
No gods,  
No gods,  
Anymore.]

Felix laughed, "Don't be afraid. It won't hurt one bit."

"Wait, what?!" Sylvain's jaw dropped.

"Harvesting your soul won't hurt one bit. It's your time, Sylvain. Your time to die."

Sylvain welled up, "Fe, I thought we were friends! Why are you going to kill me?!"

"I'm not killing you, I'm shepherding you to the afterlife", Felix motioned behind him, "It's simply your time."

[With full shelves and empty lives,  
We all live in separate cages.  
Deicide by lullaby knives,   
Caught between Heaven and Hades.]

"But…Fe…"

Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I know what you're thinking."

"You're killing me! You're going to kill me! How else are you going to 'harvest' my soul?" Sylvain blubbered, almost shouting.

"I'm not real. The Felix you know? Just a figment of your imagination."

"Not real?! But I've known you all my life!" Sylvain panicked, reaching for his lance.

"Have you? Let me guess, you have memories of us growing up together?" Felix asked dispassionately.

"Yes! I remember you crying to me when you lost to Glenn! I remember us playing together!"

"Those are all false." Felix held the scythe above his head, "I implanted those memories into you. I thought that would make this easier but apparently not. You see, I'm Death. I simply took on the form of your ideal lover so this would be a little easier."

Sylvain seemed to calm down, "I…see."

"All that you've done here has been a dream. Your dream, what you wished to do." Death smiled, "Let's go. I'll ensure that the gods craft your ideal partner for the afterlife."

It was then that Death showed its true face: weathered, skeletal, maggot-eaten. A similarly degraded hand reached for Sylvain's, the cool bones sapping his life's warmth.

[No gods,  
No gods,  
No gods,  
Anymore]

For five years, the Gautiers held hope that their son, Sylvain, would awake from the coma. Five long, bitter years that proved fruitless. They poured thousands of dollars into keeping their son alive, hoping for the day he'd return to them.

Yet, the night before they were to pay again, they were found dead in their beds. Murdered. The paper they would sign to withdraw the support, which they kept but never planned to use, had been signed and turned in by Miklan.


End file.
